


The Presence of Scott Malkinson

by mattysones



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, this fic is stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattysones/pseuds/mattysones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle's locked in the bathroom, there's bees in Mrs. Cartman's room and nobody is sure what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Presence of Scott Malkinson

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with this fic for reasons. Always open to constructive criticism like always. It's too long and I'm afraid unreadable 8(
> 
>  
> 
> Vaguely based on [this picture](http://ruhje.tumblr.com/post/90034617374/i-want-you-i-need-you-right-now-right-here), and meant to be for the artist :>

Stan Marsh was curled in a ball on one of Liane Cartman's ugly beach chairs with Craig, Wendy and Bebe around him like he was wounded member of their elephant herd. The backyard was empty and dark, save for the light that streamed from the glass patio doors and a tasteful patio chair and table set.

 

“I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die ...” Stan chanted in a drunken panic. Wendy Testaburger knelt beside him stroking his hair in motherly concern.

 

Craig Tucker stood to the side with his hands shoved in his pockets, bristling and actively looking for an escape route. “Someone shut him up.” He complained. He looked around when the girls glared at him. “What?”

 

“You'll be okay.” Wendy soothed at Stan, valiantly attempting to ignore Craig but suffering some lingering stink-eye. “It's not that bad.”

 

“I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die ...”

 

Bebe Stevens watched the proceedings with a hip jutting out while she sucked on a cigarette. “You came from upstairs before him.” She eyeballed Craig. “What happened?”

 

“No.” Craig glared at the prostate body of Stan, “Ask Kenny.” He started to step to return to the house. Bebe's hand shot out and she grabbed his shirt collar.

 

“Kenny's dead.” She said tersely, “You're our only witness.”

 

Craig snarled right back at her, “Don't stretch my shirt.”

 

“I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die ...”

 

Wendy sighed and rubbed her eyes, imploring Craig and Bebe, “Someone get Kyle.” She said helplessly.

 

Stan made a horrible noise which could likened to a dog surviving being hit by a car, then ran over by a bike, then struck by lightening, then someone suggested the dog should go for walkies and the dog was trying really hard but was severely incapacitated.

 

“Well that's not healthy.” Craig said dryly, observing Stan down his nose like someone had dropped a hamburger and ate it regardless. He looked at Bebe. “Release me, wench.”

 

“I swear to god.”

 

“Don't get Kyle.” Stan whined at Wendy. The other two looked at him. He was near tears. “He's gonna kill me, I can't look him in the face. I --”

 

Wendy interrupted, “I think you'll be surprised. Calm dow--”

 

“I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die ...”

 

The noise from inside heightened when the patio door slid open, revealing Cartman, red-faced and shirt and hands smeared with what worryingly appeared to be blood. No one inside the house seemed particularly concerned. Cartman braced his hands on either side of the door frame.

 

“Why the fuck.” Cartman seethed, “Is my mom's ceiling fan on the floor, Kenny's blood everywhere, and Kyle locked in the bathroom? I just spent the last half an hour dragging Kenny's heavy ass behind the trash bins.”

 

Wendy paled, “Is anyone with Kyle? Who's watching Kyle?”

 

“I dunno Wendy.” Cartman snarled, “His wrathful fucking god while you guys are out here helping Stan beat off to the _massive fucking mess_ he's created.”

 

Bebe arched an eyebrow, “That doesn't even make sense.”

 

“I'M COVERED IN BLOOD.”

 

Wendy groaned and stood, “Someone watch Stan. I need to check on Kyle.” She spared Stan a worried glance and confirmed that he appeared to have actually melted into the beach chair's plastic loops. Wendy pushed past Cartman, despite his pointed refusal to actually move aside for her.

 

“Craig Tucker.” Bebe had released Craig's shirt but Cartman was physically blocking his exit, leaving Craig herded on the patio deck with tasteful patio furniture, ugly beach chairs and several people he normally regarded as unhinged. Bebe lit another cigarette, “What the fuck happened?”

 

Craig tilted his head to the heavens, praying to the stars for patience. He grabbed the nearest patio chair and sat. Bebe followed suit, checking on Stan before she sat. Cartman stayed in the doorway, staring at Craig for an explanation.

 

“Well--” Craig started.

 

“Dude!”

 

Clyde Donovan excitedly peered over Cartman's bulk from inside the house. Cartman grunted when Clyde dove under Cartman blocking the doorway and stumbled toward Craig. “Dude.” Clyde grabbed another chair with a loud scrape, plopping next to Craig and brimming happily with the latest news. “Kyle is throwing like, the biggest tantrum in the bathroom. Also he stole my twenty-four pack.”

 

Cartman made a panicked noise, “Kyle Broflovski is drinking a twenty-four pack by himself in my bathroom?”

 

Clyde shrugged, “Well, Wendy's with him now.”

 

“He hates me.” Stan moaned from the chair. “He's going to drink himself to oblivion and I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die ...”

 

Bebe huffed and flicked some ash at Stan, “Jesus Christ, it's not that bad.”

 

“IT IS.” Stan wailed.

 

Clyde looked at Stan with concern, “Is he having a panic attack?” He asked the others, “Should someone get his inhaler?”

 

“He's fine.” Bebe snapped. She whipped her head toward Craig, “You.”

 

Craig was slumping, hands gripping the chair's arms, and legs open in a sprawl. “Okay.” He said irately, “So --”

 

\- - -

… _Kenny and I had spiked the punch, which was the plan because Cartman is cheap as shit and can't spike his own damn punch. We'd pre-gamed a few hours before with Marsh, so we were feeling pretty fucking pleased with ourselves._

 

_I dipped when I saw Token, Tweek and Clyde arrive, because fuck Kenny. Didn't really see much for a while afterwards. Clyde brought Jell-o shots and us four were going to destroy them all. Of course by the fifth one, new people were starting to ask for them, but we may have been well on our way to trashed by then. I think Kyle and Stan took some shots with us._

 

_I don't remember what we actually did between drinks because that's how parties work. At some point the house was crowded and Kenny shows up saying he's got weed and he doesn't think anyone is in Cartman's mom's room and it probably smells like crackwhore anyway._

 

_So Kenny, me and I think Scott Malkinson go upstairs –_

 

\- - -

“Whuhwait wait wait wait,” Cartman interrupted. He had closed the patio door and was sitting with Clyde, Bebe and Craig in the tasteful white patio chairs, “Scott Malkinson is here?”

 

Bebe arched an eyebrow, “Scott Malkinson smokes weed?”

 

Craig rolled his eyes.

\- - -

… _If you would shut up. No, Scott Malkinson was rambling about bees or something, but we were ignoring him._

 

_When we opened the door Stan and Kyle were fighting. I mean, like seriously throwing fists and Kyle had a bloody nose and Stan was crying like a pussy. It was funny, actually, I hate that guy. There was a baseball bat somewhere in there. We freaked of course, but when Kenny ran inside to pull them apart, I chose that moment to get the fuck out of there._

\- - -

Craig sniffed imperiously, “And that's what happened.”

 

Clyde spoke in his nasal tone, “That's not what happened.”

 

Everyone looked at him. Clyde recoiled, then puffed his chest when he realized he had everyone's attention. Except Stan of course, because he was drunk and trying valiently to become an ugly beach chair. Clyde cast a hurt glance at Craig, “I was there.” He said. “I guess you're pretty drunk.”

 

“I'm not drunk.” Craig snapped.

 

Bebe squinted at him, “How much have you drank?”

 

Craig paused, “A lot.”

 

Cartman groaned, “He's fuckin' trashed.”

 

“I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die...”

 

Bebe shifted to cross her legs and pointedly stared at Clyde.

 

Clyde leaned into his chair like he had the upper hand in something, “It all started this evening – an evening like any other save for the end of the summer party which we all partake at Cartman's even though we all hate him --”

 

“Fuck yourself, Clyde.” Cartman's face went dark.

 

Craig and Bebe remained unimpressed. Cyde laughed at his own joke before raising his eyes to the sky, trying to remember.

\- - -

_Honestly, I've had like twelve shots and don't remember clearly. After Craig found Token, Tweek and me, we started doing Jell-o shots. I made a lot, let me tell you because I'm pretty awesome. Craig was already drunk, I could tell because he was talkative. He's one of those guys you can't really tell are drunk until they say some off-the-wall stuff-- oh, sorry Craig. Hahhah._

 

_Anyway, we were just hanging out, waiting for people to show up. Stan and Kyle showed an hour later and asked to do shots with us. Stan had some whiskey so it was cool, but Stan and Kyle were acting weird. It was whatever. They wandered off once the house was full, but I don't really remember when, and the shots had attracted a crowd so I didn't see where. I think Kevin Stoley and Scott had shown up at some point? Kevin was definitely there._

 

_Eventually I realized Craig was gone and thought I remembered that he had gone to the bathroom, so I went to find him to make sure he didn't drown in the toilet. I'm a good friend like that._

 

_I couldn't find him though. I was getting worried so I asked around and someone said that he and Kenny went to Mrs. Cartman's bedroom._

 

_I was thinking she had a bathroom in her room so I went to check, but when I opened the door I slammed it into someone and … Christ, the ceiling fan fell I think, and there was this buzzing noise. I can't really remember. I saw Craig running out, and Stan was crying and Kyle's nose was bleeding …_

 

\- - -

Clyde sighed, “I dunno, I was pretty drunk at that moment. I left to find Craig again after that.”

 

“That's pretty much how I told the story.” Craig grumbled

 

“Yeah, but you left out some details.”

 

“Does it matter?” Craig asked. He paused and pressed his lips together, “I never said I was going to the bathroom.”

 

“I,” Cartman interjected, “Want to know why Scott Malkinson is at my party.”

 

Bebe frowned and tapped her nails on her chair's arm, “I bet he's sober. I wonder if he knows what happened.”

 

Craig glanced at the house, “Is he even still here?”

 

Clyde stood, wobbling a bit, leaving Cartman, Bebe and Craig to babysit Stan.“I'll go get him.”

 

Once Clyde had disappeared into the house, Cartman shifted in his patio chair and whined, “This is a super awesome way to end my party.” He turned his head to Stan, “Thanks Stan.” Stan deigned to answer.

 

Craig crossed his arms and attempted to display how completely disinterested he was by sprawling in manful way but was really only sulking. “Why does this even matter? You should call an end to the party and --”

 

A loud bang sounded through the backyard. The three looked up and Kyle was leaning out the second-story bathroom window, clutching the edge of the paneling and searching wildly. He bore a strong resemblance to a crazed chicken.

 

Bebe's face fell, “Oh, goddammit.”

 

The moment that Kyle found Stan on the patio was obvious because Kyle inflated with the rage of one-million Republicans who were recently informed Romney lost and the proletariat was getting healthcare. “YOU'RE A PIG FUCKER STAN.” Kyle screamed.

 

Stan roused at the sound of Kyle's voice and wobbled into a sit, looking around for the source. Bebe stood to help him. Stan looked up and was immediately teary-eyed, “Kyle!” He wailed, “I'm sorry!”

 

“SORRY FOR WHAT? ALL THE PIGS YOU FUCKED?”

 

“You're not a pig Kyle!”

 

Kyle snarled, “Well thank god for that.”

 

"Dude." Clyde drawled, "This is some Jerry Springer shit."

 

Cartman snorted, "Heh."

 

Bebe clutched Stan's shoulder and turned her gaze at them, "Not helping." She shifted to catch Stan who was drunkenly rocking backwards despite sitting. She hesitantly pat Stan's shoulder, “Stan, don't encourage him. He's piss drunk.”

 

Stan gave her an expression that reminded Bebe of a sad clown painting, “It IS my fault.”

 

There was a rustling from the side of the house.

 

Cartman heaved from his chair, panicked and ready to launch into a number of excuses over Kyle's enraged screaming because the rustling was most certainly the cops. The body that stumbled from the shadows of the house was Kenny, looking like an assaulted hobo with trash sticking to his shoe and dirt smeared across his face.

 

Cartman let out a relieved breath before he scowled accusingly, “Where the fuck have you been?”

 

Kenny glared at Cartman like he had shoved feces under his nose. He pushed his dirty hair out of his eyes; His hoodie was torn to shreds. “Oh, you know,” He said, bristling and extremely displeased. “Sleeping behind some trashcans.”

 

“That's nothing new.”

 

“Fuck off.” Kenny spat. He tried to adjust his arm sleeve so it wasn't falling.

 

Cartman jerked his head up to Kyle. “We're in the middle of an emergency.”

 

Kenny turned to look at Kyle yowling from the window, “I see.”

 

Kyle was in the middle of spewing red-faced profanities most of which began and ended with insults to Stan's mother. Stan mostly seemed in shock. "-- DOG LICKING COW FUCKER --"

 

“HEY FUCKER.” Kenny screamed up at him, “GET INSIDE BEFORE YOU FALL.”

 

Kyle took a moment to register that someone was speaking to him, and whirled his anger toward Kenny, “GO FUCK YOURSELF.” Kyle shrieked. He violently gestured to himself, still hanging out the window, “I've been traumatized!”

 

Stan cried from his chair, “I'm sorry!”

 

Kenny rolled his eyes at Kyle, unimpressed, “You'll be traumatized after I show you what's capable of fitting up your asshole IF YOU DON'T GET INSIDE.”

 

Kyle flipped Kenny off but retreated.

 

“Damn.” Cartman drawled with the interest of someone who was being forced to watch a football game who really didn't like football although that sport may have been woman's basketball for Cartman since he rather enjoyed football. “I was hoping he'd jump.”

 

“You didn't either.” Kenny scoffed. Satisfied that Kyle was indoors, he turned heel on the cement patio to go inside but Cartman's hand shot out to grab his arm. Kenny made an annoyed noise when the rest of the sleeve was torn away.

 

Cartman looked at the cloth in his hand. He shrugged, absently throwing the sleeve over his shoulder, “You need to tell us what led to this clusterfuck.”

 

Kenny looked up at the window before occupying the chair that Bebe had left. She was sitting next to Stan, wearily patting his back while he moped. At least he wasn't chanting anymore.

 

Kenny lounged, thinking. Bebe, Cartman and Craig waited.

 

“I don't really remember much.” He admitted, “And I've been … absent. For a few hours...”

 

\- - -

_Craig and I came a little early to spike the punch because Cartman's a cheapass. We were already well and drunk but I'd been drinking with Stan awhile earlier even before Craig, so I was pretty blitzed already. I think we drank some more before I realized Craig had left. I can't remember at what point I realized I wasn't around him anymore._

 

_Anyway._

 

_I found myself talking to Scott Malkinson, which was really weird because Scott's a tool, but he's alright under the right circumstances. He was going on and on about bees, and was acting loopy._

 

_I dunno, something about bees._

 

_I dicked around for a long time because that's what you do at parties, ya know?_

 

_At some point I remembered I had some weed but didn't really want to smoke with too many people. I ran into Craig in the kitchen and told him we should go smoke in Mrs. Cartman's bedroom. He told me he wanted to go back to drinking for a while._

 

_Er, so I kept it up too? Stan had left some whiskey with Clyde's group so I finished it off, even though Kyle and he weren't around. Kyle came back at some point looking for him. I dunno._

 

_Craig and I eventually ended up going to Liane's bedroom, but when I opened the door, Stan and Kyle were freaking out and Scott was swinging a baseball bat … oh. At motherfucking bees. The room was full of goddamn bees._

 

_But like, Kyle was yelling at Stan, but there were fucking BEES everywhere, and the whole thing was chaos._

 

_I think the door opened behind me and then the ceiling fan on me, because fuck me, right?_

 

\- - -

Kenny cleared his throat and tugged at the chest of his hoodie, “Which is why my clothes are fucked.”

 

Cartman snorted, “Your clothes are always fucked.”

 

Kenny scowled, “Not as fucked as your party.”

 

“Ey!”

 

Bebe spoke up from her spot by Stan, who seemed to have fallen asleep, “So.” She said, “Bees?”

 

Everyone fell silent, looking at each other for an answer.

 

The answer came quickly enough when Cartman grumbled uncomfortably, which immediately attracted accusatory stares. Cartman slouched in his chair and glared at everyone.

 

“I may, uh,” Cartman started slowly, “I may have been talking about the bee's nest in my mom's room?”

 

Craig raised an eyebrow, “How is there a bee's nest in your mom's room?”

 

“I dunno, Craig.” Cartman snapped, eyebrows furrowing as he visibly attempted to recall talking about the nest. “They were like, this place is dry like my mahm's vag and would be the perfect place to spawn. I don't know how bees fucking reproduce, Craig.”

 

Bebe frowned, “So there are bees running rampant in your house?”

 

Cartman glanced at his house, where people were still laughing and relaxed. “Guess not. No one's screaming?”

 

Craig made an irritated noise, “What do bees have to do with Scott Malkinson?”

 

“I dunno.” Cartman repeated. “I remember talking to Stan.”

 

Kenny watched the exchange patiently, “Apparently it's important. What do you remember?”

 

\- - -

_Not much. I may have been blasted by the time I was talking about that stupid bee's nest._

 

_The last thing I remember clearly was Stan and Kyle showing up pretty early in the night. I was all, 'Hi gais! Don't fuck up my party!' That's apparently something you have to establish with these fuckers now and days. I'm seriously._

 

_Don't give me your lip Kenny, I'll tell the story how I want._

 

_Anyway, Clyde's group was getting a lot of attention because of the shots, so I was going around being the super awesome, social person that I am. I didn't really stay with one person very long._

 

_I found Stan at some point in the night because he was looking for the toilet? I was like, 'ey dumbass. You've been coming to my house since you were like, two, why can't you find the toilet?' Stan was pretty fuckin' drunk, but so was I._

 

_Oh yeah. I told him not to go into my mom's room because there was a bee's nest in the closet. Someone else was there with him? I guess it was Scott fucking Malkinson. I can't remember because I would never invite Scott fucking Malkinson to my sweet party. Too sweet for Scott fucking Malkinson because he has diabetes._

 

_Anyway, we parted ways and the next thing I know there's screaming and Kyle's drinking himself into a coma and Stan's crying into Bebe's cleavage._

 

\- - -

Cartman shrugged, “I don't remember anything else after that.”

 

Bebe scowled, “He never cried into my cleavage.”

 

“Cleavage, cried like a pussy,” Cartman responded, “It's the same.”

 

Craig snickered.

 

Kenny frowned doubtfully, “If you were that drunk, are you sure you told Stan about the bee's nest?”

 

Cartman scoffed, “I sober quickly.”

 

“But you weren't sober at the time.” Kenny retorted.

 

Cartman was annoyed, “I already admitted I don't remember Scott Malkinson. I remember talking to Stan.”

 

The patio door slid open and Cartman, Craig, Kenny and Bebe looked toward the sound.

 

Clyde stepped out, looking pleased with himself, “Look what I found!” He said, and gestured behind himself.

 

Scott Malkinson followed, looking shaky, nervous, and his arms were covered in swollen, red blotches.

 

“A diabetic?” Cartman said in a deadpan.

 

Clyde either ignored him or didn't notice Cartman's tone, “The one and only!” He said cheerily.

 

Scott wheezed a bit, “I should go.” He turned to leave when Craig's voice reigned him in with its cold fingers.

 

“No you fucking don't.” Craig said lowly, “You're probably were the only sober one here tonight. What the fuck happened in Mrs. Cartman's room?”

 

“Ah.” Scott looked at Clyde for help who just crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows to indicate that yes, Scott was obligated to say his part. Scott looked at the other four (and Stan) helplessly. He rubbed at his arms,“I, may have been drinking heavily tonight.”

 

Everyone groaned, falling back into their various seating. Scott shuffled uncomfortably. “It was pretty irresponsible. I acted so stupid.” He looked at Cartman, “I'll help clean up your mom's room.”

 

Cartman sat at attention, “What?” He stared, “What did you have to do with my mom's room?”

 

“Oh, uh.”

 

Bebe spoke, “Scott.” She said, “Sit.”

 

Scott glanced around sheepishly and found another beach chair to drag to the semi-circle the group had created. Clyde sat next to him, propping his chin in a hand. He seemed to have sobered.

 

Scott sighed wearily while the others waited expectantly.

 

“I showed up late with Kevin Stoley...”

 

\- - -

_We'd been drinking mixed drinks and watching The Next Generation at his house. He had said something about always showing up late to a party so that it was in full swing by the time we got there. I don't really know about this stuff, but I went along with it._

 

_I was mad that Kevin was making me go because apparently I need to socialize more … or less awkwardly, or something. But the point is we were making mixed drinks and I'm diabetic but I was angry and –_

 

_Dammit Cartman, if you let me finish, yes it's important._

 

_I was letting my blood sugar skyrocket. It wasn't too bad when we got to the party but I wasn't acting normal, then Kevin ditched me to go talk to his friends in Clyde's group._

 

_Do you know how lame it is being at someone's house who you don't like, and you're drunk and your only friend at the party ditches you? Fuck Kevin._

 

_So my idea of sabotage was to drink from everyone's unattended drinks. Great plan, yeah. Basically I was drinking alone and letting my blood sugar get worse._

 

_Then Stan showed up? I think he was looking for the bathroom, but he noticed I wasn't too happy and stopped to talk to me. He was super drunk so I'm not entirely sure he knew it was me, but he was rambling about understanding isolation … until Cartman appeared out of nowhere and pushed me aside._

 

_They started talking and I was fuming, but then Cartman said something about this bee's nest in his mom's closet. That's when I started thinking about really screwing things up for Cartman because fuck that guy._

 

_Stan hadn't forgotten about me though and started talking again but I interrupted him and asked if he wanted to find that nest. He was all for it, so we went to Mrs. Cartman's room and sure enough, in the back of her closet was this bee's nest, buzzing away._

 

_I told Stan I wanted to knock it down and fuck up this lame party, and he thought it was the funniest idea ever. I asked him if he'd really do it, and he said yeah. So I said I'd go find something to hit the nest with so we could send angry bees downstairs._

 

_He said sure, but he had to pee, so he'd wait up there while I came back with something._

 

_At that point my head wasn't functioning at all, not because of the alcohol but I probably needed my insulin but I was like, fuck it. I get like that when it's really bad._

 

_So all I could think about was that bee's nest and knocking it out of the wall. I guess I was talking about it to everyone while I looked for something to hit it with. I can't really remember._

 

_Eventually I went into Cartman's room and dug out a baseball bat from his closet._

 

_I don't know how long I was looking. Quite a while, I think. There were a lot of people and most of them had been drinking._

 

_I can't even tell you what was going through my head. Mostly that I was pissed and talking about bees._

 

_I ran up the stairs, past someone and …_

 

\- - -

Scott groaned, rubbing his forehead and looking pale, “I blacked out for a while. When I came to, the ceiling fan was on the floor and I was swinging at some angry bees, covered in stings. The bedroom door had been shut so I opened the window to let the bees out.”

 

Five people made made disappointed noises. Craig continued sulking.

 

Kenny frowned, “You don't remember what Kyle and Stan were doing?”

 

“I uh,” Scott fidgeted, “Don't really remember Kyle or Stan being there. I'm sure Stan was there since that's where I left him, but like I said, I blacked out.”

 

“Well that's fucking useless.” Cartman bristled, “We still don't know what fucking happened. And ew, Scott Malkinson touched my stuff.”

 

Scott started to retort but the sliding door opened and Wendy appeared, looking exhausted. She slid the door shut behind her, leaned against the glass and surveyed Cartman, Kenny, Clyde, Craig, Scott and Bebe wearily.

 

“Well.” She announced to the backyard, “Kyle's drunk.”

 

Cartman groaned, rocking his head back into his chair, “Fantastic.”

 

“I'm pretty sure he's only on the fourth beer,” Wendy added musingly. She cocked her head in Stan's direction. “He said that Stan's a massive pussy and that he's owed an apology.”

 

Bebe snorted in amusement, “In those words?”

 

“Well, no.” Wendy amended, smiling slightly.

 

“Tell him to stop Jewing Clyde out of his beer.” Cartman complained.

 

“Aw, it's okay,” Clyde said reasonably, “It's been a long night.”

 

“It's not okay!”

 

“I'm pretty sure he'll come down on his own.” Wendy smiled, glancing up to the second-story bathroom window, “I told him we were taking bets on if Stan would drown in his own puke. He was actually worried at that point.”

 

Stan stirred from his spot on the beach chair, “'m not puking ...” he protested, then fell back asleep. Bebe patted his shoulder.

 

“You will be.” Kenny chimed helpfully. He seemed to reconsider himself, “Someone should get him some water.”

 

“Yeah Kenny,” Craig drawled from his chair, “You should go get him some water.”

 

As if on cue, the patio door slide open, revealing Kyle clutching a gallon of what was hopefully water, not vodka, but could very likely be meant as a projectile in which to mortally wound one drunken young adult who continued to demonstrate his vulnerability by remaining prone on Liane Cartman's not-so-tasteful beach chair.

 

Kyle's shoulders heaved with anger. The six on the patio shared glances.

 

“Go inside.” Kyle snarled, zeroing on Stan. Stan stirred but showed no other reaction.

 

Everyone stood obediently, followed by Craig's “Oh thank god” as they all ran inside, curious but not willing to withstand the oncoming apocalyptic rage.

 

Wendy paused, last to enter the house, “Don't bash his head in.” She pleaded, eying the water with distrust.

 

“Shut the shutters when you go inside.” Was all Kyle grunted in response. Wendy frowned but did as he asked, sliding the blinds shut to block the light and prying eyes from inside the house.

 

Kyle and Stan were alone in the further darkened back yard. The night sky was brighter than before, the summer air heavy with heat.

 

“Wake up.” Kyle violently bounced his water jug on the beach chair, jostling Stan awake.

 

Stan groaned and sat, rubbing his temples, “Fuck. Dude. Dude?” He looked at Kyle blearily, breaking into a huge grin, “You're talking to me?” He reached out his arms for an embrace but Kyle interrupted him by shoving the water into his chest. Stan reflexively hugged the gallon.

 

“Drink.” Kyle said shortly. He sat on the beach chair, making the plastic loops sag under their weight. “You're fucking trashed.”

 

Stan made a face at the water, “I don't think I ca-”

 

If Kyle's expression could have been personified, it would have taken the form of a deranged serial killer who was high on meth, cornered by the cops and had at least one expendable hostage whose name was Stan Marsh, and it was in Stan Marsh's best interest to drink the fucking water or possibly experience a painful death, starting with a gunshot to the kneecaps.

 

Stan quickly popped the cap off the bottle and took a drink.

 

“We're going to talk.” Kyle said, as Stan titled the water into his mouth. “Because you're a fuck up.”

 

Stan's vision rocked as he set the jug on his lap. He shook his head, “Um, look. It might not matter but --”

 

“Do you even remember?” Kyle snapped.

 

“Yes!” Stan's shoulders hunched defensively. He looked at his knees, glaring at the water on his lap. “But, I don't remember the start of the day? After you picked me up from Kenny's? I've been listening to everyone's version of tonight and some things don't quite add up.”

 

Kyle squinted at him, “How drunk are you?”

 

Stan sighed, “Not very. I was earlier though. I mostly slept it off.”

 

“Does it matter?” Kyle asked reluctantly. He looked away from Stan, glaring at the house and slivers of light that showed through the blinds.

 

Stan's voice was small, “I think it does. So I know how much of a dick I've been.”

 

“A huge one.”

 

“I'm sorry.” Stan said quietly.

 

Kyle started getting angry again, “It's that shit that-- okay, no.” He huffed and looked to the stars for guidance, before taking a calming breath. He shifted his weight and their chair shifted with him. “You started drinking with Kenny this afternoon, before I came and picked you up...”

 

\- - -

_You were already pretty drunk when I got you. I was shitty because I'd hoped you'd stay sober a little longer; I didn't want you passing out early, but whatever. Craig was there to keep Kenny company so instead of going straight to Cartman's like we planned, we went back to your house so I could drink too._

 

_At the time I didn't realize how drunk you were until you wouldn't stop touching me. It was weird because you're an angry drunk, but like, you kept touching my shoulders and at some point you were in my lap, I dunno._

 

_I tried to play it off but you were getting more irritated the more I ignored you. I think I asked you what was wrong but you ignored me and had another beer._

 

_And I was like, “okaaaay?” but let you do your thing. Whatever, you were drunk._

 

_I needed to be drunk to deal with you, but I'm a light weight comparatively so it didn't take long. It was still pretty early when we walked to Cartman's, but not as early as I thought because there were a few other people there._

 

_Cartman was getting nervous that no one else would so show up so he seemed relieved when we came. You got all excited when you saw the Jell-o shots Clyde had. He was reluctant to share until you showed him the whiskey bottle, but it was half-full and I didn't really remember drinking that much and wondered if you had on your own._

 

_Anyway, you were still all touchy and I was getting more annoyed because people were starting to give us looks. We were playing some drinking games with the others but I had to take a break when you put your hand on my thigh because fuck it all, that was distracting. I told you that I was getting some water._

 

_I was probably more drunk than I realized because everyone heard and like, waved goodbye. It doesn't matter. I went to the kitchen for a long time and found someone's beer so I was still getting drunker. Every time I looked into the living room I'd see you and couldn't really think of how to deal with you. You seemed happy and I couldn't …_

 

_Goddammit, I didn't want you touching me like that if you didn't mean it, okay? It was really confusing and--_

\- - -

Stan's face scrunched with regret when Kyle's speech trailed away. He started to reach to touch Kyle's shoulder. “Jesus, Kyle. I --”

 

“No, shut up.” Kyle shrugged his shoulder even though Stan wasn't touching him. Stan's fingers clenched in retreat. Kyle refused to look at the other's hurt expression. He leaned his elbows onto his knees and stared forward stonily.

 

\- - -

_I was glad, ya know? I don't know what it was about tonight that made you say “fuck it all” because I mean, we've always been touchy with each other. Even as kids we'd sleep on each other. But it's different when you're older and you're still falling asleep in each other's laps, but there's this unspoken agreement that we won't do it in front of other people._

 

_I was thinking about this stuff when I decided that we really needed to talk. I think Kenny came in at some point, looking for someone to smoke with. At that point I decided I needed to help with the whiskey because my beer was finished, but when I went back you were gone._

 

_Clyde said you went to the bathroom but he seemed confused over if it was you or Craig. Everyone was fucking blasted at that point. I stole a few more shots and set off to find you._

 

_You weren't in the main bathroom, so I wandered around for a while. Then I remembered Liane's bedroom had a bathroom attached to it, and surprise, you were asleep on her bed._

 

_I had to shake you awake but …_

  


\- - -

Kyle finally turned his head to look at Stan, “Do you remember this part?”

 

Stan cleared his throat, “Mostly.” He kept his eyes on his shoes.

 

Kyle's eyebrows knit together.

  


\- - -

_You woke, and immediately I knew you were wasted. You threw your arms around me and pulled me onto you. I may not have been as drunk as you, but I was still drunk. When you started kissing my neck I was totally okay with that._

 

_Except you were rambling about bees while trying to pull off my shirt, and that killed it for me. I pulled away and asked what the fuck that was about. You looked at me like you had no idea what I was saying until you said, “I'm trying to make out with you.” Like this was the most serious matter in the world. God, I never wanted to hit someone more._

 

_Instead I kissed you. I was angry but also relieved that I hadn't been imagining your touches all night. And fuck it all, you're a good kisser even if it was wet and messy. I think some box was opened because neither of us could stop touching each other._

 

_I knew things were getting out of hand when you started moaning and humping my thigh, but I wasn't much better. I rolled away and dammit, you made the most upset noise – like I had told you that oxygen was an limited resource and we were going to have to kill ninety-percent of the world to survive. I guess I felt that way too, but when you're about to come in your pants I guess everything seems like a big deal._

 

_I think you got the picture. We lay there for a while, calming down. Eventually I spoke first, “So.” I said, “That happened.”_

 

_And you laughed and said “Sorry.”_

 

_I wanted to hit you again. I was afraid you'd say “no homo” and I'm sorry, but you can't make out with your best friend like that and just ... “takesies backsies” like it's no big deal. But I couldn't say anything. I think you had the same thought because you looked really sad._

 

“ _So.” You said, “Are you mad?”_

 

“ _Not really.”_

 

_And you of all people, asked me, “Are you going to remember this tomorrow?”_

 

_I couldn't look at you for a moment. Something big was happening and we were both scared. I covered my eyes and said, “Yeah. I'm gonna remember for a long time.”_

 

_I think those were the right words. You smiled so fucking bright that I could see it with my eyes closed. Then you were pulling my hands away and kissing me again and fuck, you smelt like whiskey, cheap vodka and Jell-o and I kept thinking “we really need to talk about this” but it didn't matter, For the first time that night everything made sense. I couldn't have wanted anything more than you straddling my lap and kissing me ..._

 

_Then the bedroom door swung open and Scott Malkinson was charging in with a baseball bat._

 

_I would have been okay to yell at Scott, but I saw the look on your face: We had been caught, and nothing hurt more than that you were panicking...except that you flung yourself off me, kicking me in the process._

 

_I yelled in pain and stood, ready to chew you out, but Scott had flung the closet door open and was beating at something._

 

_Then came the goddamn bees, swarming out of the closet and you were on the floor freaking out because we'd been caught and now there were fucking bees in the room._

 

_I gathered my head long enough to shut the bedroom door so they wouldn't escape._

 

_I think Scott realized his mistake because he started swinging the bat at these swarming, angry bees. You seemed to have the same idea. You jumped to your feet and started trying to punch at them. Yeah, you tried to punch a goddamn bee you piece of shit, and ended up punching me right in the face._

 

_I was pissed and started yelling because now my nose was bleeding, and you started crying and apologizing because you were drunk, then the door opened again and there's fucking Kenny and Craig, confused as hell._

 

_Scott had perfect fucking timing when he knocked down the ceiling fan and it fell on Kenny … I guess Kenny is okay though because we just saw him._

 

_Craig peaced out, and so did you. Pissed, I climbed over Kenny's body, shut the door behind me and started to look for you again._

 

_I gave up after like, two minutes because fuck you, found a case of beer in Cartman's kitchen and locked myself in the bathroom._

 

 

\- - -

Kyle glared, “I only got through two beers before Wendy came for me.”

 

Stan waited to make sure Kyle was done talking before his shoulders sagged in discouragement. “So you were really calling me a pig fucker?”

 

Kyle sniffed, “Yeah.”

 

Stan sighed, leaning backwards to rest his hands around the metal edges of the chair. He looked into the sky, watching the stars stretch above them. “Is your nose okay?”

 

Kyle gave a disgruntled grunt and rubbed at his nose, “Swollen, but yeah.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Fucking shit.” Kyle clenched his hands and hunched irately. “Stop apologizing.”

 

“Sor--” Stan winced. “I'm not sure what this situation calls for.”

 

“Are you still drunk?”

 

“A little.” Stan shook his head, eyes still trained above. “Sober enough.”

 

Kyle glared at the patio door, aware that the sounds from within were thinning and the night was getting late. “Do you have anything to say?” He spat.

 

Stan fell silent as he thought. He turned to look at Kyle, really only seeing his back, “I don't regret anything.”

 

Kyle took a breath and turned to look at Stan. He pressed his lips together, still guarded and suspicious, “Then what's going to happen?”

 

“I. Ah.” Stan sat fully, crossing his hands into his lap but looking at Kyle evenly. He frowned, “You're not as defensive as I thought you'd be.”

 

“Well. You know.” Kyle was embarrassed for the first time and glanced away, “I kissed back. So.”

 

A flash of a happy grin crossed Stan's face before it shifted into something a little more uncertain. “It's not because you were drunk too?”

 

“Still a little.” Kyle mumbled. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No. Not really.”

 

“So …?”

 

“I may have ...” Kyle groaned and leaned into his knees, locking his hands over his neck like a hostage, “I think I fell in love with you sometime ago. A long time ago. I don't know.” He said to the ground.

 

This time Stan didn't stop the grin from spreading across his face, “Me too, dude.”

 

Kyle turned his head to look at Stan, still hunched and hiding in his legs, “So, this is okay?” Kyle asked uncertainly. He cleared his throat, “I was only mad because you ran away. I thought you were ashamed or something.”

 

Stan laughed unevenly, “I was afraid I was dreaming, and when I woke you'd call me a fag and hate me. When Scott ran in I panicked and ...”

 

Kyle smiled thinly but honestly, “Punched me in the face.”

 

“Hnn.” Stan laughed weakly, “Unfortunately.”

 

Kyle seemed like he didn't want to be happy but his expression betrayed otherwise, “Is this happening?”

 

Stan beamed, “If you want.”

 

There was a shuffle from above. Both looked up at the Cartman residence to see Wendy and Kenny hanging out the second-story bathroom window.

 

Kenny yelled with his hands to his mouth, “GAAAAAAAAAY.”

 

Wendy made a mortified noise and kept pulling on the remainder of Kenny's hoodie to drag him back inside. “Leave them alone!” She cried, but Kenny was too strong for her to pull him away.

 

“Fucking kiss already!” Kenny laughed through his hands, and allowed himself to be dragged back inside the house.

 

Kyle and Stan laughed in return, and followed Kenny's advice.


End file.
